“With sex on my mind—ranting with Bobby at
large” is a fictional letter written by Harrison Dickinson
to his friend, Bobby
Truman who lived a promiscuous lifestyle for a very long time before
he finally met his untimely death a
couple of years ago.
Truman, according
to Harrison’s letter, lived a volatile lifestyle rooted in
love, sex and despair; and he was said to have enjoyed his life to
the fullest meaning of the word especially in the area of romance,
dazzling his soul with explosive sex after sex with different women
until he got himself obliterated on a brazen Saturday afternoon as
he was having sexual intercourse with Debra, one of his many sexual
partners.
Truman was
the greatest woman-wrapper that had ever walked the face of this
earth; he loved sex and booze, and would not hesitate to get his
dickie wet and dirty inside the pussy of any woman who happened to
tickle his worm and jiggle both his balls… even if that woman
happened to be another man’s wife. But as the saying goes everyday
is for the thief and one day is for the owner, he unfortunately met
with his untimely death on a brazen Saturday afternoon as he was
having the best time of his promiscuous life, delighting his dickie
in Debra’s coochie; defiantly having sex with the woman whose
husband had warned him repeatedly to stay away from his wife…
